Like A Fairytale
by Winter Sapphire
Summary: He was the Doctor, she was Amy Pond, and that's all there was to it. A collection of Amy/Eleven drabbles and ficlets.
1. Doctor's Orders

**Title**: Doctor's Orders**  
****Word Count**: 544  
**Rating**: G  
**Summary**: The last thing Amy can remember before blacking out completely is the Doctor's grip tightening protectively around her.  
**Warnings**: Nada. No spoilers for any of the episodes. :)  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Doctor Who. :( I wish I did, I'd keep Matt and Karen alll for myself. And friends.  
**Author's Note**: First foray into 11/Amy world of fanfic! I've been trying for the past few weeks to write something for them but everything kept falling flat. This is the only thing that I've been able to finish that was any kind of decent. XD Hopefully with more episodes they'll get easier to write. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

There are flashes of white in the corners of her eyes, and Amy knows her mouth is wide open in a silent scream as the Doctor lifts her deftly into his arms and carries her through the jungles of Gubark II, where the trees are a rich purple and the Knarls spit acid at fifty miles an hour.

"That looks painful," the Doctor remarks, looking down at her shoulder where the clothes have been burned away and the skin is blistering into an ugly shade of green. He jumps to the side quickly just as another wad of acid flies past into the trunk of a tree. "Oh, _wonderful_, now it's _hunting_ us. Don't you know that you should never ever go wandering off alone in unfamiliar jungles? Really, Amy."

Amy wants to glare at him, because the only reason she'd been alone is because _he_ had gone gallivanting after some winged insect he had _sworn_ was a new species. She wants to, but the spreading burn makes her head reel and her eyes squeeze shut, and she buries her head into the crook of his neck with a pained whimper.

The last thing Amy can remember before blacking out completely is the Doctor's grip tightening protectively around her.

When she wakes up she's in her bed, the TARDIS humming a comforting sound, and Amy blinks slowly as her eyes fight to adjust to the lighting of the room. It's another moment before she remembers the Knarl and the jungle and the Doctor and--

Amy lifts her arm experimentally, and her shoulder twinges a little -- but otherwise seems okay. It almost felt as though she had been stung by a bee rather than burned by acid, and she frowns as she pushes herself up in the bed.

"Ah-ah," the Doctor's voice tuts from the doorway as he pushes it open with a shoulder and stumbles his way in, balancing a pot of tea on a tray. "No moving. The Doctor's orders." He settles onto the edge of her bed, placing the tray down between them carefully.

"I feel _fine_," Amy protests, lifting her arm as though to show him that she was, in fact, _fine_. "See? No problem."

"Nevertheless!" The Doctor carefully pours the tea into a mug and holds it out for her. "The TARDIS just helped you re-grow several layers of destroyed skin in under two hours, which is incredibly fast for a human's natural healing ability. Better safe than sorry. Humour me." He pauses before tilting the mug towards her even more. "Aren't you going to take it?"

"You just told me not to move," Amy quips drily, the corner of her lip twitching up into a smirk as he raises his eyebrows at her. "I'm only following the Doctor's orders."

"Of course," the Doctor says, as though he had realised that all along and had just been testing her. He inches closer to her to hold the edge of the mug just under her mouth. Amy notes with a triumph that his ears are tinted just a _little_ pinker than normal. "Open wide."

Maybe, Amy thinks with an inward smile as he carefully pours the tea into her mouth, she'll let the Doctor go gallivanting off more often.


	2. A Willow Bending With The Storm

**Title**: A Willow Bending With The Storm  
**Characters**: Eleven and Amy  
**Word Count**: 1048  
**Rating**: PG  
**Summary**: Sometimes she feels as though she's still a seven-year-old girl, waiting for her white knight in shining armour to come back and sweep her into the stars.  
**Warnings**: References to some of the episodes but nothing spoilery, I'd say.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Doctor Who. :( I wish I did, I'd keep Matt and Karen alll for myself. And friends.  
**Author's Note**: Just a few short, not-really-connected drabbleish things. Written because I have been so incredibly bored and procrastination is a fine art that I am trying to refine. xD Enjoy, I hope!

* * *

_Still, when your heart is sore  
And the heavens pour  
Like a willow bending with the storm,  
You'll make it_  
-- Hope For the Hopeless, A Fine Frenzy

Sometimes she feels as though she's still a seven-year-old girl, waiting for her white knight in shining armour to come back and sweep her into the stars.

Of course, her white knight hadn't been a man in shining armour brandishing a sword while he rode on the back of his noble steed. No, he'd been a man in torn clothing clutching a sonic screwdriver in his fist as he climbed out of a little blue box. But, well, she _had_ been seven, and he had seemed awfully like knight-in-shining-armour material back then, jumping into her life right when she had needed him the most and fixing her problem in the blink of a giant alien eye.

But then he'd _left_ her right when she had needed him the most, too, and Amelia Pond... well, Amelia Pond became Amy Pond.

She wasn't the girl in the fairytale anymore.

* * *

On Shéleg she impulsively chucks a snowball at him, and he blinks at her in shock as the snow slides down his face and drips from his bangs. He reaches a hand up slowly to flick a bit that's sticking to the tip of his nose.

"You threw a snowball at me," he says, sounding highly incredulous and just a little bit offended, and Amy smirks at the childish pout that's crossing over his face.

"Yup."

"_You_--" The Doctor points at her with an accusing finger, forehead crinkling in a way that he probably means to be intimidating but really only makes her want to throw another one. "You threw a snowball at _me_." He gestures wildly, waving his hand in front of his face. "You hit me in the _face_."

Amy's smirk widens into a grin; he really does make it too easy. "Well, Doctor, your forehead is quite the easy mark."

He simply smiles at her as they head out into the planet of ice-and-snow, and when he stands aside to let her into the TARDIS several hours later, after they've both barely survived an encounter with ice hyenas, Amy realises she _really_ shouldn't have turned her back to him.

The Doctor's laughs rise like smoke into the chilled Shéleg air as the snow drips down the back of her shirt.

* * *

It takes her ten years to come to grasps with the idea that the Doctor isn't coming back for her. His five minutes stretch into five hours, and those five hours stretch into five days. Days become months and months become years and she's seen four psychiatrists before she finally -- _finally_ -- admits to a short man with bushy brown hair that the Doctor had never been real.

She tells her aunt later that night that she's getting rid of all the figures she's made over the years, and the smile on the woman's face is the brightest Amy's seen in all of her life.

She hides the figures under a loose floorboard in her room instead; she doesn't think of them again until the night before her wedding.

* * *

Amy had thought she'd seen the Doctor angry back on the Starship UK, but the anger he had emanated there pales in comparison to the anger she sees radiating from him now.

The group of renegade time agents shrink back from the fires blazing in his eyes, and the Doctor speaks in such a quiet voice that it chills Amy straight to the bone.

"It's a funny thing, time," he says, tapping the sonic screwdriver against he side of his leg. "It never does quite what you expect it to do. You say move forward, it could go back." Amy sees his eyes flicker towards her for a split second. "Five minutes for one person can be twelve years for another." His grip tightens on the screwdriver, and he gestures sharply towards the group of human beings and aliens alike huddled fearfully together against the wall of the spaceship. "You take people _out of time_ without knowing the_consequences_ and you could destroy half a dozen planets in the blink of an eye!"

He presses a button and the shackles binding the prisoners fall loose. He presses it again and the agents' Vortex Manipulators fizzle and crack. He gives them one lingering look before focusing his attention solely on the people who need his help.

The TARDIS is quiet after they've returned the would-be slaves to their respective times and planets, thrumming sadly as the Doctor leans against the central console. Amy watches him, unsure of what to say but feeling like she _should_ say something -- anything.

"Hey." She approaches him cautiously, bumping his shoulder with hers as she falls into place beside him. "Chin up, yeah? We got 'em. You did that... snap-crackle-pop thing with their time-watches or... whatever that was. Everything's alright."

"Oh, Amy," the Doctor's tone is sad, so sad, and so, so lonely. "There was a time when my people could have stopped something like that from ever happening in the first place."

Amy shifts next to him, taking the limp hand dangling at his side in hers. "And now there's just you."

The Doctor doesn't look at her, but he squeezes her hand, and when he speaks his voice is so soft that she almost doesn't hear him at all.

"Now there's just me."

* * *

When he thrusts her outside of the TARDIS and into the infinite abyss of space she wants to close her eyes and beg him to drag her back in; they can't be in space, it's just not possible. Aliens? Okay, that's fair. Little blue boxes that are actually time machines? She's said as much to her psychiatrists.

But actually floating in space with nothing but the Doctor's fingers curled around her ankle keeping her from floating out into it? _That_ she just couldn't believe, which is probably why he had insisted on her taking 'just a step outside.'

She wants to close her eyes and beg him to drag her back in, but she doesn't. Instead she stares out at the stars and lets the wonder slowly wash over her.

It may have taken fourteen years and four psychiatrists, but the white knight of her childhood had finally come to sweep her out into the stars.


	3. The Gravity Of The Situation

**Title**: The Gravity Of The Situation  
**Characters**: Eleven and Amy  
**Word Count**: 1018  
**Rating**: PG  
**Summary**: "Amy, this could very well be the most important thing you'll ever do in your life."  
**Warnings**: Slight references to basic episode plot points but nothing spoilery.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Doctor Who. :( I wish I did, I'd keep Matt and Karen alll for myself. And friends.  
**Author's Note**: This is all elenwyn's and her Sim's faults. They just HAD to be cute and Ellie just HAD to give me her teacup pig face and-- but yeah. Just something fun and possibly a bit OOC no matter how hard I tried not to. XD Have fun!

* * *

Whenever Amy skips out of the TARDIS she expects something grand -- orange grass or green skies or the Ancient Romans battling it out in the Colosseum. She's seen countries floating in space and aliens that turn to stone and _Winston Churchill_, for Pete's sake.

She always assumes he's going to show her something mind-boggling, so when Amy steps out of the TARDIS this time and all she sees is a very much English playground in a very much English park in a very much English village on a planet that is _very much_ Earth, she finds herself feeling, unsurprisingly, very disappointed.

"Doctor, is the TARDIS acting up again?" she calls back through the door, watching as a very much _human_child runs past. "I think we've landed in the wrong place."

"Wrong?" the Doctor's voice drifts out towards her, and she can hear him shuffling around from inside the TARDIS. After a moment he pokes his head out of the door, eyes flicking over the park rapidly, searchingly. "Nope, this is right." He shoots her an odd look as he steps out of the TARDIS completely and finishes tying his bowtie around his neck. "Why'd you think it was wrong?"

"I-- well-- the grass isn't orange!" she blurts, and the Doctor laughs at her as he locks the door behind him.

"Blimey, you've been away from Earth too long if you're expecting grass to be orange."

"But... you said we were going to look into a matter of anti-gravity! In fact, that's _exactly_ what you said!" She points at his back as he begins to walk away, following right at his heels as she puts on the best Doctor-voice she can muster up, "'Amy, there's a matter of anti-gravity calling my name. Best look into it!' And the grass here isn't even _orange_!"

Amy stops in her tracks as the Doctor twirls around to face her, his expression serious and incredulous enough that it sobers her anger instantly.

"Amelia Pond, your planet could very well be in danger right now, and you're upset because the grass isn't orange?"

"If the planet's in danger, then why're we in a _park_?"

The Doctor gives her a look -- one of _those_ looks that makes Amy feel as though she's just asked a very stupid question -- before he sticks his finger in his mouth and holds it out into the wind.

"Right," he says, turning to the left and walking off without any explanation. "Amy, I'm going to need your hands for this. Hurry up!"

"Going to need..." Amy frowns as she follows him. "What do you need my _hands_ for?"

"To push me, of course!"

"Push you."

He comes to a stop beside a swing, pulling out his sonic screwdriver and scanning the metal with it as he explains, "Yes, push me. Quickest way to test the gravity of the planet without the proper technology is a good swing. This one will do." He shoves the screwdriver back in his pocket and turns to face her. "Are you ready?"

"Wh... Can't _you_ push _me_?"

"You won't be able to sense any changes in the atmosphere," the Doctor tells her, settling himself in the swing and jutting his legs out in front of him like a five-year-old boy. "You can have a go afterwards if you'd like."

"Why don't you just..." Amy waves her arm, "kick your legs or something? I mean, me pushing you? Won't that look... silly?"

"I can't just _kick my legs_," the Doctor sighs, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he looks at her. "I don't think you realise the... well, the _gravity_ of this situation. Amy, this could very well be the most important thing you'll ever do in your life." He beckons to her with one of his long fingers. "Now get over here and _push me_."

"Alright, alright!" Amy shakes her head in disbelief as she moves behind him and rests her hands on his shoulders. "I can't believe I'm doing this." And with that, she pushes.

The Doctor lets out a whoop of delight, kicking his legs out despite what he had just said. Amy watches as he flies up into the air, the metal chains rattling, and for a moment, just a moment, it looks as though he's just floating in mid-air. Then he's back down again, and she's pushing him back up, and the cycle repeats.

"Doctor," Amy calls to him after a few minutes and several rounds of him flying and falling, "what's wrong with the Earth?"

"What?" The Doctor laughs, craning his head around to look at her. "Oh, right. There's nothing wrong. The Earth's perfectly safe."

"What?" Amy grabs the chains as he comes back down, stopping the swing in its tracks and almost sending the Doctor toppling off. "Then _why_ am I still pushing you?"

"Swings are fun. Don't you think so?" His eyes twinkle at her as he stands up and straightens his jacket. "Did you want a turn?"

Amy folds her arms across her chest and rolls her eyes at him, amused despite herself. "The Earth was never in any danger, was it?"

"Define 'danger'."

"Doctor."

The Doctor side-steps around her to stand behind the swing. "Well, no more than usual, I suppose. You'll quickly learn that the Earth is _always_ in some sort of danger." He pats the chains of the swing. "Now come on, Pond! Do you want a turn or not?"

Amy lets out a breath, blowing some of her hair out of her face before taking the invitation. "After this you're taking me to a planet with orange grass."

He grins at her, hands fiddling with the ends of her hair as he rests them on her back. "Wouldn't dream of anything else. We'll go to Sauntra. They have a lovely festival this time of year. And by this time of year I actually mean the time of year I'll be taking us to, which they call _Uuvos_. Now, hold on tight!"

The Doctor pushes the swing with all of his might.


	4. Running Through My Mind

**Title**: Running Through My Mind  
**Characters**: Eleven/Amy  
**Word Count**: 473  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Summary**: He's been kissed by his companions before -- sometimes he's even been the one _doing_ the kissing -- but it's never been like this.  
**Warnings**: Oh yes. If you haven't seen 5.05, you may very well be spoiled.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own Doctor Who. :( I wish I did, I'd keep Matt and Karen alll for myself. And friends.  
**Author's Note**: This is a combination of hyperness, sleep-deprivation, watching that last scene of Flesh And Stone over and over, and a way-too-active mind for 2AM when I didn't get any sleep last night. Speaking of which, why am I still awake? Erm. Yeah. The thought process of the Doctor in those few seconds after Amy kissed him.

* * *

His mind is constantly racing with thoughts, thoughts that come and go so quickly that he can't keep track of them half of the time, but when Amy kisses him all those thoughts -- those thousands of brilliant, wonderful thoughts -- rush out of his head and leave his mind sitting bewilderingly blank. It's more alien to him than any of the planets he's ever visited.

Amy's hands dance across his chest, tantalising him through the fabric of his shirt, and he has to fight to keep his body from shuddering at the unfamiliar wave of heat rolling through him. He's been kissed by his companions before -- sometimes he's even been the one _doing_ the kissing -- but it's never been like this.

And it's ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, because he's a Time Lord and Time Lords aren't supposed to be swayed by their emotions, but that was why he kinda stole the TARDIS in the first place and oh _god_ she does that thing with her tongue and he's forgotten she's a kissogram, or she was two years ago, two of her years, and she had been _seven_ and now she's most decidedly not.

And then he realises his hands are just kind of floating there, and he knows he's supposed to do something with them, like run them through that fiery ginger hair of hers or grab her bum and pull her closer or-- _no_. No, no, no, this is bad, so bad, _very_ bad and he has to stop this before it gets out of hand.

He grips her shoulder and leans into her, just for a split second, feeling the overwhelming urge to just stop fighting and give into those carnal instincts the Time Lords had spent millennia repressing in themselves. He wants to so much that it hurts when he forces himself to push her away.

"But you're _human_!" he exclaims, hearts beating in his chest at a rate that probably isn't normal even for him, "You're _Amy_! You're getting married in the morning!"

She leans in again and he inwardly groans because there's no way he's going to be able to muster up that self control again, but-- he's missed something. He's just missed something very important, he can feel it. In the morning. The morning. That morning. The base-code of the universe. His eyes widen and he stares at her in wonder, slots fitting into slots and puzzle pieces clicking together and his thoughts come rushing back at ninety miles-an-hour.

"In the morning," he repeats it like an epiphany, and she just looks at him, all sultry-eyed and _Amy_ that he can't believe he hasn't realised it before. The crack in _her_ wall, of all the walls in England, and he hadn't even thought that to be significant.

Sometimes, he knows, he can be really thick.


	5. Under The Weather

**Title**: Under The Weather  
**Beta'd By**: shadow243ali (thank you!)  
**Word Count**: 1127  
**Summary**: They're stuck in the middle of a storm in a rickety wooden shack, and the Doctor can't help but notice that Amy is most certainly not herself.  
**Author's Note**: I wrote this about a week and a half ago, for ladyfiresprite's prompt "Amy's feeling a bit under the weather..." combined with the prompt "water" for the fairytale_thon on LJ. I wanted it to be posted there before putting it elsewhere (like... here XD). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

The Doctor watched the raging storm through a stained window, wondering how well the rubbish wooden shack he and Amy were currently holed up in would hold against the battering winds and rain for... He tilted his head to the side and listened to it pour, taking a deep breath and smelling the dampness in the air. For the next twelve and a half hours.

"I think we're stuck here," he told her a little solemnly, yet he couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. "But look on the bright side - it's a storm! I love storms, and the storms on this planet are the third most memorable in the universe." He paused, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking back onto his heels. "Well, that's because the worst storms here can rage for days upon days and weeks upon weeks - sometimes even _months_ - but thankfully we've got a small one. Twelve hours isn't so bad."

The Doctor frowned then. Amy was being _awfully_ quiet in the face of such a feat of natural power, which was completely different from the Amy he'd grown to know - inquisitive, rush-headfirst-into-danger Amy, who didn't think twice or look back long enough to have regrets; who didn't go five minutes without poking some sort of fun at him.

He spun on the spot to face her and was surprised to find her looking desperately at any place _other_ than somewhere that would let her see the storm outside. Her arms were folded protectively over her chest, her hair framing the sides of her face in a way that made her look small. Well, _this_ was new. "Are you alright, Pond?"

"Fine," she ground out a bit too quickly to be convincing. "I'm fine. It's just a storm, yeah?"

"Yeah," the Doctor said in a disbelieving tone, furrowing his brow and copying her pose by crossing his own arms over his chest. "Right, I'm not falling for that. You're all hunched over. You're never all hunched over."

Amy shifted a bit to the left, looking away from the Doctor and the window to instead stare at the door they had come in through which was holding fast against the angry winds and rain even as it looked like it could be blown down at any moment.

It took a few moments, but eventually she offered, "I just don't like storms very much."

The Doctor watched her for a moment, observing her for a short while before approaching her slowly, bending down in an attempt to see her face. "Amy."

Amy met his gaze this time, and the look of utter fear and loss and sadness in her eyes reminded him, however faintly in comparison, of the emotions he tried desperately to hide himself. He was the Doctor, the man who didn't stop long enough to let the events of his past catch up with him.

Looking at Amy now, he had to wonder if that was why she _did_ always lunge headfirst into danger, if she did it for the same reasons he did - just so she didn't have to look back at all the things she was potentially leaving behind.

"My parents-" Amy started, only to cut herself off, wiping away oncoming tears with the back of her hands. "God, I'm so stupid."

"No you aren't," the Doctor assured her in a soft voice, nudging her shoulder with his comfortingly. "You're Amy Pond. You're brilliant. One of the cleverest on Earth. I'd wager money on that."

He nodded, once, to emphasise his words. Amy laughed lightly, nudging him back and letting the silence, save for the water hurtling against the windowpane and the rumbles of thunder, permeate for a few seconds more before finishing, "My parents, they... the night they died there was a thunderstorm. A bad one. I was only four, but I remember it so _clearly_."

A crash of nearby thunder shook the shack, making the wooden boards rattle dangerously and the ceiling creak. A drop of rain water hit the ground between them as it fell from a sliver of a crack above. The Doctor glanced up at it with a quizzical brow, blowing some of his bangs out of his eyes with a huff.

"Wonderful, we're not even an hour into this thing and we've already sprung a leak," he sighed, ushering Amy away from that spot and into another. "There, that's better. All dry."

Except now she was quiet again, staring; this time, right out the window and into the eye of the storm.

"I'm not going anywhere," the Doctor told her, clasping a hand on her shoulder comfortingly and turning her gently away from the angry weather outside to look towards him. "I know we had a bit of a rough start, but I promise I won't ever leave you."

"You told me five minutes," she accused in a heated voice the Doctor swore only gingers could muster up. "You told me five minutes and I _believed_ you and then you were gone for twelve years!"

He winced. "The engines were phasing, I couldn't-"

"And then when I thought you came back for me, you left without even saying goodbye for another two!"

The Doctor pulled at the side of his face in exasperation. How had this turned around on him? "I don't know if you've noticed, Amy, but I'm not quite human. Decorum sometimes doesn't strike me until after I've made a mistake."

"You mean it _always_ strikes you after you've made a mistake."

"Right, that one," the Doctor agreed sheepishly, looking back towards the drip as it slowly increased in its flow. "I always come back."

"How was I supposed to know that?" Amy asked, and the Doctor's face fell a little. He slid his hand down from her shoulder to her hand and entwining his fingers with hers.

"I'm sorry, I truly am, but I can't change whatever happened to your parents and I can't fix those fourteen years. What I can do, however," he added with a smile shifting onto his face, "is spend the next twelve and a half hours-"

"You said it was only _twelve_!"

"-with you, here, listening to all the wonderful things about your parents that you can tell me."

Amy smiled at that, sliding her hand against his in a way that felt far too familiar for the amount of time they had known each other. "Are you sure about that? I've been told I talk peoples' ears off."

"Funny," the Doctor grinned as they each moved to sit down on the floor, "I've been told the same thing."

Together, with their hands clasped and the steady dripping of rain water leaking down from the roof, they waited out the storm.


	6. I Wear A Fez Now

Title: I Wear A Fez Now  
Word Count: 198  
Characters/Pairings: Eleven and Amy  
Summary: Amy Pond buys the Doctor a hat.  
Warnings: Potential spoilers for The Impossible Astronaut but if you haven't seen it you probably won't understand. P:  
Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and Steven Moffat. I am just playing around.

* * *

After it all, after all the confusion and the pain and the fear, after the Silents are dealt with and neutralised, Amy makes him go to an open market on an alien planet and tells him to wait before she disappears out into crowd with nothing but her clothes and a handful of money.

When she comes back, the Doctor's standing hunched over the console, jacket thrown over the jumpseat as he struggles to unjam a lever on the console. Amy takes a deep breath, walks up the stairs as quietly as she can, and sets the fez on his head. The Doctor pauses, then straightens up, idly twirling the tassle with his finger.

"What's this?" he asks, bemused, taking it off and looking at it, turning it over in his hands before setting it back on his head.

"It's... a fez," Amy says, shifting, and it surprises her that she feels self-conscious. That's not like her. That's not like her at all.

"Well, yes, Pond, I can see that. I meant, what's the occasion?" The Doctor smiles at her before it fades, taking in her expression. "Amy?"

"Just-" she darts forward and wraps her arms around him, hiding her head against his chest, and he stumbles a little before awkwardly hugging her back.

"Just...?"

"I don't care if you wear the stupid fez," Amy tells him, taking a deep breath, "just don't decide any other ridiculous hat is cool, okay? Promise me."

He hesitates. "Amy, I-"

She slaps his shoulder hard enough to rock him. "_Promise me_."

"Alright, alright, I promise! Blimey, what's with everybody _hitting _me lately? I promise, cross my hearts, yadda yadda, can I go back to my work now?"

He doesn't understand, he can't understand, but it's enough for her, and she pulls back and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you."

Amelia Pond, the girl who waited, leaves her Raggedy Doctor with his time machine and his fez, and foolishly hopes that it might just be enough.


End file.
